


Tic toc tic toc tic...

by HogwartsToAlexandria



Series: Marie Ships it All Shorts 2020 [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Family Feels, Gen, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Irondad Fic Exchange 2019, Kid Peter Parker, Kidnapped Peter Parker, Kidnapped Tony Stark, Not Canon Compliant, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Plot Twists, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark is a Good Dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:00:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22156690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HogwartsToAlexandria/pseuds/HogwartsToAlexandria
Summary: There's a ticking sound he can't quite place - a constant, tic, toc, tic, toc…Pain. There's so much pain, and no light apart from the blinding, searing hot flash of white behind his eyelids.Cold. Hot. Cold. Hot. Uncertainty.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe) & Tony Stark
Series: Marie Ships it All Shorts 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1649596
Comments: 6
Kudos: 88
Collections: Irondad Fic Exchange 2019





	Tic toc tic toc tic...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dontmockmyawkwardness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontmockmyawkwardness/gifts).



> Hey here is your gift dear! You asked for whump and here you go! Whump all over, hope you'll enjoy it 😘

Darkness. 

Metallic banging sounds.

Swishing and scrapping and...keys jamming in a lock.

Whimpers.

There's a ticking sound he can't quite place - a constant, tic, toc, tic, toc…

Pain. There's so much pain, and no light apart from the blinding, searing hot flash of white behind his eyelids. 

Cold. Hot. Cold. Hot. Uncertainty. 

Fear, cold, sweaty fear and his heartbeat - boom, boom, boom - at his temples and at his ears, at his lips, clawing up his throat. He can't throw up. Not again. He knows this just as he remembers where he is.

Tony's eyes fly open as a renewed wave of pain slams over him, almost pushing him back against the icy concrete floor he's trying to sit up on. He blinks...the same warehouse still, the same dim light coming from under the door and from the small window so high up on the wall there's no way to see where they are exactly. 

Tic, toc, tic… 

He frowns in an effort to chase the blurriness in his eyes and that's when he hears it. 

"Dad…" it's faint, exhausted.

"Pete?" Tony finally looks around instead of up and finds his son laying in a ball on the floor, looking at him under a fringe of curls, matted with sweat and dried blood. A look to the side tells Tony that Morgan is still sleeping soundly bundled in the blankets he'd fought for earlier. 

"Baby," Tony brushes a hand over Peter's cheek, finding it moist with tears and sweat alike and the anger in him roars. "Baby, can you look at me?" 

Peter's eyes are glassy with unshed tears, the same he's kept in since they were thrown in here. Tony doesn't even know how long it's been now.  _ Fuck _ . 

Tic, toc, tic… 

"M'okay," Peter croaks and tries to sit up, he whines, a high-pitched sound that kills Tony's already frayed nerves. Peter flinches as he finally sits up and tries to turn his wrist around. 

"Show me."

They're both whispering, scared even as they try to hide it from each other, that talking too loud will make their abductors come back. Tony shudders. 

"It's not broken," Tony inches closer until he can gingerly pass an arm around Peter's thin shoulders, keeping his other one, the one they did break, close to his chest. 

Tony only becomes aware that he's grinding his teeth when Peter's frail fingers come to massage his jaw in a silent plea for him to stop. 

"Gonna check on your sister," Tony whispers again. Drops a kiss in Peter's hair. Makes sure to meet his eyes as if to say  _ I love you, you're so brave, I got you _

Tic. Toc. 

Tony's entire left side hurts, pin-needles stabbing from his knee to his temple. It's quiet outside the door right now. Tony pushes Morgan's hair out of her face, barely holding onto the tears of rage that form in his eyes as he sees the scrape marks on his five-year old's cheek. 

Biting his cheek to keep from groaning in pain, Tony lifts Morgan's sleeping form until he can go back to Peter, lay her on his lap and hug his son to his side again. 

"We'll be okay, I'll get us out of here," Tony says, but doesn't promise, he knows Peter hates that, doesn't believe in words but in him, and what they have. 

Tony looks down at his daughter, still sleeping from the sedative their aggressor gave her when she started screeching uncontrollably. He looks at Peter's mess of curls, then at his face, even paler than usual in the darkness of the room, and at the way he holds his knees close to his chest now that they're sitting up together. 

A million thoughts pass through his mind, a million possibilities of how to get out of here but he can't figure out how to make them work, how to get what he needs to make it out of there, the three of them against that piece of-- 

Tic toc tic toc tic toc tic… 

Noise, there's noise at the end of the hallway he's only seen a glimpse of. Tony's arm instantly tightens around Peter, his injured hand spasming on Morgan's back. 

There's a minute of silence, both Tony and his son holding their breath as the steps come closer and closer, tapping loudly on the floor and echoing against the walls of the empty room, as those steps halt and obscure the narrow space between the heavy wooden door and the floor. Tony's eyes widen imperceptibly and Peter squishes himself closer, hiding his face even as he squares his shoulders. Scared and yet, brave, always. 

Tony's heart jumps in its cage as he gets ready to get up and jump the man on the other side of that door. Each jumble of keys they hear as the person looks for the right one to open the door, each heavy breath they can hear whether it's theirs or that of the monster holding them captive, pull all of Tony's muscles taut and ready. The pain doesn't disappear; it only seems to fuel Tony's rage. 

It's all useless. 

The door opens slowly, and the man that steps in, unmasked, has a gun in his fist and he points it at them. 

"Get up," he sneers, "Carry her."

Tony's lips flatten in a hard line. He keeps his mouth shut. God knows it takes everything he has to do so. Except it doesn't. Because what he  _ has _ , are his kids, right there with him and depending on that maniac's goodwill and on his own actions and decisions. Staying silent and obeying the orders of a man who holds them all at gunpoint seems like the best course of action right now. 

Standing up with Morgan in his arms makes it impossible for Tony not to hiss in pain but he secures his hold on her and fists the fingers of his broken hand in Peter's tee-shirt nonetheless. He stares at the man standing just a few feet away from them, red hot fury coloring his vision at the sick grin the man gives them. 

"After you," he says as he steps to the side, back against the door to let them walk past him and into the hallway. 

Tic, toc, tic… 

It's not the first time he's let them out, but the third. Every time seems as random as the last though, so Tony really can't tell if it's been two or maybe three days since he was pushed at the back of a non-descript van only to find his children already in it, tied and gagged and looking terrified as someone hit him at the back of the head and he lost consciousness. The back of the head thing seems to be their move of choice too, as it has happened twice since, and it makes Tony that much more anxious to turn his back on the asshole right now. 

Not like he can rebel though. Not now, not like this. 

The hallway seems so long with the nagging pain that runs through his entire side, the flaring hot pin pricks that flame up inside his arm and hand. He wants to clutch at his arm and can't, burdened with Morgan's weight as he is. The light is almost as dim as it was inside the room they'd been thrown in, just like the other times they were moved from room to room and that's what Tony expects at the end of this corridor, just another dark, gray room with nothing in it but a toilet and a bucket of water. 

He drags his feet on what seems to be hardwood floor, the only thing that takes him by surprise - not exactly the go-to decoration of warehouses. But all this he notices in flashes, his mind buzzing with so much that he cannot compute already, his brain seemingly pounding with questions and anger and, even if he's trying his damned hardest not to show it, terror. 

Dread fills Tony as the man behind them whistles under his breath, the heavy boots he wears clicking harshly with each step he takes as he follows close behind them. 

Peter is completely silent, his socked feet barely making any noise as he moves and Tony frowns, not remembering what happened to his shoes. He looks down at Morgan only to see her staring right back at him with wide eyes and her lips raw from where she's bit them with fear. 

Whatever is behind that door could end them, end their hopes and Tony's plans for the beautiful children life graced him with fathering. His hands tremble with the memory of the monster behind him, hitting his baby boy in the stomach as another man held him back and Morgan screamed in a corner of the first gray room. Memories that are so vivid that they still hurt like he's punched in the face repeatedly, every time he catches a glimpse of Peter out of the corner of his eye, every time he feels Morgan's fingers tightening around the blanket that's still wrapped around her. 

No matter what is behind this door, no matter how beaten up Tony is and, fuck, Peter is too, they will do this together. Tony will fight to protect his kids till his last breath. He's still hoping someone will find them. Still holding onto the possibility that one of his devices, be it his tablet or his phone or his watch or his glasses or-- that one of them is still on and emitting signals somehow - foolish wishing on his star and on the stupidity of their abductors. 

The door is right there now and Tony stops, waiting for the next order, not knowing if he should open it himself or--

Tic toc tic toc tic toc tic toc tic toc….. 

Cold metal is pressed against the nape of his neck, hard and deadly point of the man's revolver pushed against his skin. 

"Tell your son to open that door, don't try anything or--"

The door flies open. Light. So much light. White. Bright. Blinding. 

"Dad! Dad! Wake up!" 

There's so much light and so much pain and Tony thinks he's sobbing but it can't be. Not in front of the kids, not in front of--

"Dad, come on! Wake up!"

Tony sits up suddenly and nothing makes sense. Why was he laying down? Why-- 

There's fabric, soft and heavy over and around him and he… He's in his bed. In his bedroom. At home. He looks around and his eyes hurt from trying to shake off the persisting image of the gray room, and of the hallway and the all too real feeling of having a gun pressed against his neck. And Peter is here, right here, looking scared but  _ concerned _ scared, not life-threatening scared and…

Tony takes a deep breath - it burns his throat as it goes in and he understands he's been screaming. He blinks again. The tic toc sound is still going. He looks around and his eyes fall on the vintage clock on his bedside table, a gag-gift from Pep he's had since last year and only started using a few weeks back. 

Tony looks at his son again, kneeling on his bed with one hand reaching through the void and finally settling down on Tony's knee before he says what Tony's just starting to understand. 

"You had a nightmare, Dad," his twelve-year-old boy, looking so old all of a sudden, like he knows all of what Tony's just been through even if it was all a dream; Tony sobs just as he realizes his cheeks are already moist with tears and what a sight he must make. 

"Come here, please, come here," Tony pulls Peter on his lap, and proceeds to squeeze the living hell out of him. He buries his nose in the sleep-mussed curls that will never bow to the power of a comb, strokes his son's back and keeps sobbing silently. 

"It's okay, Dad, I got you, you're safe," Peter says, his voice muffled in Tony's chest but so firm, so mature as he tries to reassure Tony. 

Tony hates it. Tony loves him for it. 

Tic. Toc. Tic. Toc. 

"I know bud, you're my private superhero, uh?" 

"Always," Peter squeezes his own thin arms around Tony's back. 

Pepper's clock says it's 4am, they should probably go back to sleep - or Peter should, there's no way Tony will fall asleep again after this - but for now, they're happy to just bask in each other's warmth and try to forget. 

Nightmares are a specialty of the Stark family, it seems, and this, hugging the shit out of each other - as Tony says and tries to prevent Morgan from repeating - is one way to fight them off. 

If only Pepper was here, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Up to you what's up with Mama Pepper 😉 thank you for reading!


End file.
